A gift for giving

Sporting News, The, August 2, 1999 by Paul Attner

Some of their less-wealthy peers work on a smaller but equally admirable scale, whether it is Chargers kicker John Carney's involvement with a group that performs reconstructive surgery on children born with deformities; or Panthers winger Scott Mellanby's spur-of-the-moment decision to help raise what became $76,000 to aid a family whose husband had been killed, leaving a pregnant wife and four young children; or Kings forward Corliss Williamson

preaching a message of academic importance to students by using his own stumbling school background as proof; or Angels pitcher Ken Hill quietly reaching out to a core of community groups ranging from churches to food banks.

Besides Robinson and Green, we have singled out four athletes for special recognition. Steve Young (NFL), Rob Ray (NHL), Tony Gwynn (MLB) and Jayson Williams (NBA) are our choices as the No. 1 Good Guys in their respective sports. Their charitable work, as you will see, is overwhelming, and very special.

Others have exceptional tales to tell, stories that give them a unique identity. The 93 other players represent a cross section of athletic involvement in the community. They range from Canucks rookie Bill Muckalt to 19-year Bruins veteran Ray Bourque. What we tell you about each is only a highlight of their participation; they do much more than space allows us to detail.

We have confined our selections to players currently playing in those four leagues. We haven't included coaches, managers or front-office personnel. If you know of a pro athlete who is a good guy and doesn't appear within our 99, tell us about him, and his good deeds, so we can consider him for next year.

Meanwhile, let's celebrate the big hearts of David Robinson and Darrell Green.

Darrell Green remembers the feeling. Through his foundation and on his own, he had been giving back to the community, hustling from one crisis to another, paying a bill, supplying clothes, rescuing a mortgage, raising money for needy groups, dealing with drive-by shootings, making hospital visits. But it wasn't enough. He needed to do something more, something that would have lasting impact on a city desperately in need of help. In 1993, that something became his learning center.

David Robinson remembers the feeling, too. He had been giving back to the community through his foundation, starting programs to buy food for the poor and to give diapers and other supplies to needy families and to promise 91 fifth-graders at a local school $4,000 scholarships if they went to college. (Thirty-eight wound up collecting.) When he learned a friend of his was bringing food to the homeless who lived under railroad bridges, he asked her if he could come along and help. But the millions of his money that he gave away just didn't seem enough. He had to do something that would continue to help San Antonio's minorities long after he had retired. The something became the Carver Academy.

Robinson stands an angular 7-1, Green a thin 5-8. But they are linked by smiles that put them on equal footing. Happy smiles. Smiles that say, "I have a story to tell." They feel good about themselves and their work, and when they talk about their common bond--their deep Christian faith--they become particularly animated. Indeed, Robinson's voice rises and he seems hardly able to contain himself as he explains his beliefs.